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thir10th · 2 days

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hi love! i'd like to req emily smut, maybe a little more on the rough side if you'd be comfortable with that, where she gets jealous over reader and shows that through sex

if you want something less vague, it could be when reader brings emily lunch to her office and morgan keeps flirting with her, leading to some action in emily's office

I'll be doing these two together cause why not. I hope you don't mind! thanks for requesting, and I hope you liked it!!

jealousy - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the asks, it's a mix of both, it kind of took a turn, but i hope you still enjoy it! tw: jealousy, a very poor try at dom Emily, fingering, breast play?, idk tws are so hard once you've finished writing🥲, i think that's it lmk if i'm missing smth a/n: no idea if there's a way for me to link both asks here, someone lmk if there is

It's only 8.00 am when you enter the police station, two bodies in the past 12 hours required the early hours, everyone had to be focused, your mind had to be only in one place. However, this wasn't the case for all the people on that room.

The local police officer at the head of the case had some other things in his mind.

He starts by boldly checking you out, looks at you up and down, stopping and staring at the short tank top you were wearing, which makes you uncomfortable enough to cover yourself with your arms as much as you can.

The look your girlfriend sends to him doesn't go unnoticed to you, you start to believe she will set him on fire just with her stare, she places herself covering your body to shake his hand, which she gripes a bit too harder than the usual.

If you didn't know her any better, you would say she is jealous.

But there was just no way, right? Emily Prentiss doesn't get jealous, she's too confident for that, she has you so well wrapped around her finger, she doesn't need to be jealous. Right?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"so you think this... unsub like you call him, could be on a killing spree because of his mother?" the agent asks you, staring at the last picture you just sticked to the board with a puzzled look.

"we're positive, we've seen this modus before, it's a clear pattern" you explain

"ugh, so talking about mommy issues" you can't help the little snicker that scapes your lips.

He looks triumphant, fully believes he's got you under his spell. He couldn't be more wrong.

The familiar hand that slides behind you on your lower back makes you jump, Emily comes around you, standing closer than she usually does.

"hey, what were you talking about?" she asks, tilting her head.

"oh, nothing just the case" you say, unbothered.

"just the case huh?" you turn your head to see how she's staring at him, as he walks away from you both.

"Em? what is it?" you ask suspicoisly.

"nothing, i just don't understand, what could be so funny if you were just talking about the case..." she says sarcastically

"oh my god" you try to keep your voice down, but the excitement is still noticeable "oh my god, Emily, you're jealous!"

"what? What do you mean I'm jealous?" her voice a couple octaves higher, making it so obvious to you she's lying.

"that's not even a real answer!" you say.

"ugh..." she lets out one of those little sounds she always makes when she knows she's been caught, you think it's adorable.

"ok, so maybe... maybe I just... don't like the way he looks at my girlfriend, so sue me!" she tries defending herself, but you couldn't take it seriously for your life, you find it adorable, the slight pink tinting her cheeks, her reassuring hand still resting on your lower back.

"Emily, c'mon, you know i love you" you kiss her cheek, she kisses you back but still doesn't look so convinced.

The thing is, you could not be any less attracted to that man, there was no way in the world you would find his flirting any appealing, but the idea of teasing Emily sounds too exciting.

A little fun never hurt anyone, right?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"...hellooo, earth to Prentiss?"

Morgan waves a hand in front of Emily’s face and she’s brought back to reality.

"what?" she asks.

"i said, could you please put your frown away, you're scaring Reid" Spencer doesn't even hear the comment, too focused on the case file to even pay attention to the conversation that was taking place right beside him.

"my frown is just where it has to be, thank you" she says raising an eyebrow at that.

Derek gives a scoff, and Rossi chuckles at the whole stupidity of the situation. “If y/n can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you, she’s sure gonna think you're planning a murder.”

"i might just be" she mutters

"I think I know what's going on" Rossi intervenes "she isn't looking at y/n" he explains pointing at you "I think someone might be jealous"

You are only a few feet away, discussing your last findings with the detective, trying to laugh at every little thing he says, making sure Emily is watching.

"I'm not jealous" she defends "she is so clearly not interested, but what if she needs me to step in?" her attempt to make up a good excuse isn't good enough for any of them to buy it

"if that helps you, but all i can hear is jealousy" a big, cocky smile spread on Morgan's face, it's only making her angrier

"c'mon, or we will too have to face the consequences of the territorial monster of jealousy when it explodes" Rossi says, dragging Morgan away

"yeah, mark your territory" Morgan laughs, while Emily gives him the finger "go get her lover!"

It's your loud chuckle that draws the line for her. When you finally get away from the persistent officer, you turn to see Emily isn't there anymore, taking your phone you see 2 new message from her.

From Em💕: you better knock your shit off baby.

From Em💕: That's it. You're so in for it later.

That one makes your heart throb, it shortly makes you wonder if you had taken it too far. This was not gonna end well for you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hotch decides to call it for the day, sending you off to start fresh in the morning, when a male voice you had heard enough already, calls your name

"Agent, I was wondering if you would be in for a drink with me?" he asks, eyeing you up and down yet again.

You are so sure you would find it just as disgusting if you weren't so gay, and so in love with your girlfriend.

"oh, sorry but no, actually, I-" a much more familiar female voice interrupts you "she's with me" Emily says.

He can't believe his eyes, Emily wraps her arm around your waist pulling you close to her body "hi babe" she says, kissing your lips, you return the kiss, a bit amused at her jealousy, but loving the possessiveness she was showing.

"Sorry, you were saying?" she asks, the man still open-mouthed, he can't bring himself to even speak.

"nothing... ugh, good night, agents" he dismisses you, and walks away defeated.

Emily and you head out of the bullpen, her arm still securely wrapped around your waist, she slides her hand on your back pocket, grabbing a handful of your ass possessively, making you chuckle.

"wanna talk about it?" you ask her innocently

"oh we are gonna be doing a bit more than talking you and me"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Emily doesn't even leave time for the door to close, and you have a split second to register your thoughts before she closes the door and walks over in one long stride and slams you into the wall.

Her mouth attacks yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, her tongue invading in a fight for dominance, that you just let her win, she is determined to have her way with you, and you aren't going to stop her.

She wasted no time in getting her hands on you, roughly rubbing her hands over your exposed skin. You, however, delicately placed your arms around her neck and when you both pulled apart to breathe.

"what's wrong, Em?" you ask her, breathlessly

"you know what? For starters, I didn't like the way he was looking at you" she starts, her breath warm against your skin, she lowers her head getting your neck, kissing it so sweetly you feel you could melt

she is quick to find your pulse point, mouth-opened kisses all over your skin, she nips all over your spot, which makes you moan

"but then imagine my surprise when i saw you, flirting back" her hand finds her way underneath your shirt, reaching for your breast, she finds no more resistance as you aren't wearing a bra, your other nipple peaking through your shirt in excitement.

She uses her free hand to grip your ass, you jump at the feeling whimpering on her mouth, her closeness only making you more excited.

"but you don't like him, do you, baby?" she asks, teasing you, she leaves a soft kiss on your lips

"he wouldn't stand a chance, we both know men aren't really your type" Emily says lowly, nipping at the tender spot behind your ear.

She slips her leg between yours, a soft moan escapes your lips.

"so you just wanted to make me jealous" you're too deep in her dominance to even register anything, letting out soft whimpers every time her thumb brushes against the nub and grips the soft skin of your breast

"god... Emily" you let out, as Emily pulls your thighs apart with her hand.

"you know, baby, if you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked" she attacks your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave purple marks you couldn't care any less about now.

Emily presses her fingertips against the crotch of your jeans "your clothes. Take them off or I'll rip them off" she commands, taking a step back from you, leaving too little space to maneuver.

You knew better than to tease her when she was like this. A shiver of excitement runs through your back, and you comply.

You take your jeans off then, your shirt, quickly throwing them somewhere far on the room.

You move to kiss her again, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss, but she doesn't let you, instead she grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up.

You wrap your legs around her waist, she carries you to bed, laying you down just harshly enough to make you even more excited for whats to come.

"you are gonna do exactly what i ask you to tonigh, you know why, baby?" you hold your breath, you're not sure if she actually wants you to answer, but you try nonetheless "because I'm yours"

Your answer seems to satisfy her, as she begins kissing her way down your body, taking special care to nip at your collarbone and stomach to leave more marks than the one's on your neck.

The soft cloth of her shirt rubs against your skin and as if just now realising she was still dressed, you grab the hem of her shirt and help her take it off, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the room, like you had done with your own clothes.

And not a moment later, she is back to kissing your body, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear.

Her hand navigates down them, she dips low enough to collect your arousal on her fingertips before rubbing your clit forcefully. Your body reacts immediately, curling forward. "Em!" you moan

"what's wrong baby? Cat got your tongue? use your words, if you want me to stop the teasing, just say it"

"fuck...Em, please, I'm yours, please Emily, yours" you confirm, closing your eyes and letting your hips rock against her hand.

“Who are you this wet for?” Emily demands, nipping at your earlobe.

"just you" you whimper, desperation starting to build in your lower stomach

"that's right baby" the cocky smile on her lips makes your eyes roll. You obviously loved slow, romantic love making with your grilfriend, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't love this side of her just as much.

She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed hard.

She uses her free hand to play with your breast, you let out a gasp when her tongue moves over it spurred you on and she begins to gently suck on it while her hand still caressed your other breast.

You melt into the mattress at her words. "let go, c'mon baby, I got you" you cum on the spot, as she fucks you through your orgasm, she let's you ride your high.

Emily lays down beside you as you come down from the climax, she kisses your lips softly, lovingly this time, less urgent.

"you know i didn't mean any of it right? I was just playing with you, i love you. He didn't stand a chance" you try to clarify

"yes baby, i know, i love you too, i wasn't so harsh with you right?" she asks concerned. Sometimes you can't believe how Emily's mood changes so fast, from all dominating, incredibly sexy, to concerned, soft girlfriend.

"Em, it was perfect" you say, grabbing her face and pecking her lips "you are perfect" you kiss her again.

"well, good, because we're just getting started, i'm not sure you've learned your lesson yet" she grins.

"Like i said, I'm all yours, agent Prentiss" she sits to straddle you, and you grab her face to pull her in for another kiss.

Emily caresses your neck with her thumb, looking at the purple marks she had previously left "this will be hard to cover tomorrow"

"who says I'm covering them?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting on your usual spot on the plane, you lay behind Emily's amr, resting your head on her shoulder as she reads.

You aren't oblivious of the look on Morgan's face, right in front of you.

The shirt you chose had your neck and cleavage all on display, small and big purple marks cover your skin.

He stares bluntly at you, a cheeky smile covering his face "So y/n, looks like you and Prentiss had yourselves a good night. Care to share?"

Emily gives him the finger.

"in your dreams" you say.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

wow! a lot longer than i expected it to be! finishing this one gave me a headache so please like and reblog if you liked it, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! <333 reqs still open as always!

186 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 1 day

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Imagine imagine imagine Bi-Han and Reader as enemies for as long as they can remember, but recently Reader feels attracted to Bi-Han and one night decides to touch herself at the image of him. Add some degrading kink here and some size kink there sprinkle sprinkle ykyk :3

calling my name

a/n: 4200 words...y'all better eat this up, please, i'm begging you

pairing: bi han x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) light bondage, degradation kink, size kink, overstimulation, pussy eating

you absolutely hate Bi Han, he always had to one up you, always had to be better, always had to make sure to rub it in your face whenever he beat you in a spar

it was absolutely infuriating, and you seeth at him from across the room as he lectures the trainees and mentors for something idiotic that one person had messed up

he was so serious about every single little thing, and you wanted to slap him, to beat him into the dirt because of course he would take such a stupid mistake so seriously

someone had left out a weapon on the training grounds rather than putting it back on the rack, and for some reason, this was the hill Bi Han was going to die on

you barely hold in your scoff and your eye-roll as Bi Han walks by you, and you sit until your ass is numb and he’s finally done lecturing you all

finally, you walk off back to your room, the day already dark and moon high from how long the grandmaster had lectured you all

why did the mentors have to be there? it’s not like any of you would make a mistake so trivial, and now your night was wasted

you were going to sit down with a good book and a hot cup of red tea and sip on it until the candle burned down, but now you couldn’t even do that

closing the door, you strip off your clothes and angrily throw them into your laundry basket and put on your loose pajamas

maybe you would just go to sleep then

flicking off the lights to your room and closing the blinds, you bury yourself underneath the sheets and stare at the wall of your room

except sleep won’t come to you, no matter what position you flip yourself into or how long you close your eyes, and now you’re angry for a different reason

finally, you lay on your back, the blanket rumpled around you, and all you can do is stare at the ceiling as you lay wide awake

the meeting from earlier flashes through your mind and how Bi Han had strut around the room, dressed in only a casual uniform for training

it was sleeveless and tight, one size too small for him, and you could see every time his arm flexed and how his chest nearly spilled out from the front

you hated Bi Han so much that it turned into lust, and it frustrated you to no end how much you craved him despite how much you also wanted to beat him into the dirt

huffing out into the air, you dip one hand below your shorts and press them against your clit, biting your lip at the feeling

you start with slow circles, sighing at the feeling, and you can feel your pussy clench around nothing and getting wet as you continue

your fingers are nimble, nowhere near soft, but not quite calloused just because you engage in more hand to hand combat rather than with weapons, and you wonder how Bi Han’s fingers would feel against your clit

you’ve fought with him many times, felt his calloused and scarred fingers dig into your skin and cause bruises to bloom across you

they would be rough, focused, determined, rubbing quick and hard circles into your clit, and you let out a soft moan as you quicken your pace

parting your legs slightly and taking a pause to throw off your pants, you rub your clit with practiced fingers, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling

pleasure buzzes through you, hums in every fiber of your being as you get yourself closer and closer to the edge

you imagine Bi Han is here with you, fingers rough against you and pushing you further and further to the edge

his voice would be saying something, always something because the grandmaster always had something to say or do to prove his point

you can imagine the deep rumble of his voice, the growl he would let out, his neat and pristine hair being mussed by your hands

you’ve never wanted to pull out his bun so much and mess up his hair and tug tangles into the strands, and you know he would be irritated with the action

he would pin you down to the ground, thick fingers moving to fuck your drooling pussy while his thumb grinds against your clit

it would be delicious and angry and hot, and you let out a moan of his name as you cum on your fingers, letting your orgasm wash over you and light every sense in your body

you slow down your fingers on your clit and let out a little breath, feeling more tired than earlier, and you remove your fingers and adjust your position to turn onto your side

where you see an open door and someone standing there in casual training uniform

a chill runs down your spine and your heart thumps in your chest as your eyes trail up, up toned legs, a plush chest with crossed arms, and a scowling Bi Han

oh fuck

immediately, you throw your blanket over your bare legs, mouth open in surprise, and you sit up, fingers clutching the blanket so hard that you might as well tear a new hole through it

he doesn’t do anything, and you don’t say anything, stuck in a staring contest that you desperately didn’t want to be in

and then he steps in closer to you, making you flinch, and he closes the door behind him, his silhouette nothing but a dark shadow in the black of your room

it’s hard to tell if he’s moving, smiling, going to kill you, and you shift on the bed to turn on your lamp

but then there’s a hand on your legs through the blankets, yanking you further down the bed and making you gasp in surprise

you go to yell, scream, yelp, but a hand clamps itself over your mouth and his other pins your wrists above you, ice cold and freezing

he chuckles lowly, the only other sound in the room besides your pounding heart, and he says that he didn’t know that his most annoying soldier was so into him

you glare at him, almost hoping that it makes him drop dead, but unfortunately, it doesn’t, his hands still pressed against you

his breath gets close enough to fan out across your face, and it makes you flinch, not knowing that he was so close to you in the darkness of your room

your eyes had yet to adjust to the black night, and you kick your legs in an attempt to hit his stomach and fling him off of you

but he just slots his hips right in between your plush thighs, and you’ve run out of possible defenses to kick him off of you

unluckily for you, the rough cloth of his pants rubs on your sensitive clit when he had pushed his way between your legs, and you let out a small whimper at the feeling

you can feel his smirk before he opens his mouth, and you don’t move in fear of grinding against him and further embarrassing yourself

but from the way you can feel his hardness pressing right against your cunt, you’re guessing he liked you just as much you liked him

or at least, the way you liked his body because you hated his personality

Bi Han grinds his hips into yours, and your eyes finally adjust enough to see his stupid stupid smirk on his face, looking at you like you’re prey

his hand is still clasped over your mouth, but he lets go of your wrists, encasing them in ice so you couldn’t throw them at him

the ice almost burns, and it mixes with the pleasure you feel as he grinds against you, making your head spin and your nerves twist in every which direction

it doesn’t know whether to deal with the pain or deal with the pleasure, and it fills your head with a haze as you let out a muffled curse behind Bi Han’s rough hand

he lets go of your mouth, and you curse him out with as many expletives you can think of

Bi Han rolls his eyes, muttering something in Chinese under his breath, and you switch to the language and start cursing him out like that

he looks around your room, finding your discarded panties on the sheets above you, and he shoves them into your open mouth, effectively silencing you for the most part

you can’t even spit it out because it’s too large, and so you just glare at him, arms stuck to your fucking bedsheets and legs spread around his hips and staring at his insufferable face

he hates you, you know he does because he fights you like he does no other, and it’s clear in his words as he calls you a whore, a needy little slut

you continue to glare at him as he says that if you wanted him that badly, you should’ve just asked, he can’t but help a whore in need

his hands travel up shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing them harshly, making you let out a choked whimper at the roughness

he just squeezes and squeezes your chest, doing nothing more than that for a second, before his thumbs find your hardened nipples and roll against them

the feeling makes you whine, and he grins at you, pinching your nipples repeatedly and listening to the muffled whines and whimper that flow out of you

you can’t stop the noises that come out of you, and neither can you control how your pussy grows more and more wet by the second

he murmurs, saying that you look so pretty when you’re quiet, so helpless beneath him, and that maybe he should keep you like this, all pliant for him

you try to growl underneath your gag, but then he lowers his head to your neck and sinks his teeth into your skin

a small yelp leaves your throat, and he runs his tongue over the mark, kissing a little lower before he sucks a hickey into you as well

it’s high up, too high to hide with your uniform, and you squirm in his grip to complain

but all it accomplishes is making you rub against him, and you just let out a pathetic mewl at the feeling and go still

he chuckles against your skin, kissing lower and repeating the process over and over again until he finally reaches your chest

he nips and bites at the skin before latching his mouth over your nipple, running his tongue over the nub, while his hand pinched your other nipple

his tongue and teeth are relentless against the sensitive nub, and you can’t help but squirm against him, growing needier and needier by the second

you garble out commands behind your gag, telling him to hurry up, to stop being such a coward and fuck you senseless already, but if he understands, he ignores you

he’s slow with his actions, just grinding himself into your sensitive clit, and the grandmaster continues to tease your chest, teeth lightly nipping at your nipple

it makes you whine and arch your back and your chest right into his awaiting mouth, and he smirks against your skin and detaches from your nipple with a slight pop

but he quickly moves to your other nipple, giving it the same overbearing treatment, tongue rubbing over the nub and teeth lightly biting into it

you really couldn’t take any more teasing, and you try to convey that as much with the way your hips buck into him, but he just growls and presses his body weight further into you

with his size compared to yours, you’re helpless to get him off of you and can only take the pleasure that he gives you

he seems to spend forever on your other nipple, and your head is starting to grow foggy with how much you need him as much as you hate to admit it

you wanted to flip him, take what you want and leave him needing, but for now, all you can do is let the pleasure cloud your mind and control your body

finally, after what feels like an eon, he detaches his mouth from your chest, giving it a playful bite before he looks at your heaving chest

he hums at the sight, pinching your nipples one more time for good measure, and you suppress your whimper at the feeling

Bi Han just laughs and calls you pathetic, but he looks just as debauched, lips shiny with his spit and eyes frenzied, his hair a mess with strands falling out of his bun

you want to spit an insult at him, tell him that he’s no better, but he hasn’t removed the gag just yet, and so you just glare and hope they burn holes through him

he just lightly pats your chest, and then shuffles downward, using his hand to spread your legs open and then up to press them into your stomach

you try to struggle and move your legs again, but his arms are thick and strong and keep them pinned tightly to your body

he just mutters pathetic under his breath before lapping his tongue over your clit, making your hips buck and a small whine to escape from you

Bi Han wastes no time in tasting all of you, his tongue flicking your clit back and forth roughly before sucking on it and drawing a wail out of you

his tongue is ruthless, cold against your clit, and all you can do is buck and grind your hips further and further into his tongue

you’re getting closer and closer to the edge, his tongue still pressing firm flat strokes against your oversensitive clit, and you can’t think at all

you hurtle over the edge, pleasure shattering like shards of glass throughout your body, and you tremble as he keeps his lips firmly wrapped around your clit

it feels like your high lasts forever, and you know that you’re whining out his name from behind the gag but you can’t even stop yourself

but his tongue is still pressing against you, tongue still stubbornly lapping at your clit, and his fingers slide through your folds

they’re cold, and the temperature makes you gasp and flinch at the coldness, but Bi Han just hums into your clit and all thought flies away again

he slips his fingers into you, thicker and rougher than your own, and your pussy squeezes around them, trying to bring them further, desperate for pleasure

pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, you can feel your mind and your body separating, how the pleasure seems to hold onto your body and bring you far away from yourself

it’s like floating in the space between Earth and Outworld, and you can’t control the whimpers that leave your throat as Bi Han curls them into your sweet spot

it makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers and grow wetter as he rubs against the spot, and you let out small mewls as he continues to suck on your sensitive clit

it’s so overwhelming, and you want to kick him off but also bring him closer and make you cum, you want it, you need it

Bi Han hums into your clit, the vibrations shooting straight through you and making you see white as you cum on his fingers

he keeps pumping in and out of you, letting you ride your high out on his fingers, and you’re panting heavily, head dizzy from the lack of oxygen from the gag

his tongue gives your pussy one final lick, tongue broad and firm, before he detaches himself from you with a wet pop and stands up, letting your legs finally fall down

you can’t even kick him away because of how they feel more jello than bone right now

you’re face to face with just how large Bi Han is, sure you’ve sparred against him, had him pressed against you so many times before

but that was in a different context…now he’s standing before you, undressing himself, his biceps flexing in the little moonlight that shines through the cracks of the blinds

his chest is so much broader and defined than yours, years and years of training you supposed, and he catches you staring as he shucks off his pants

no surprise, of course the cocky motherfucker was large, and he brings his hand to wrap around it and pump it a few times, his thumb collecting the pre-cum and spreading it along the shaft

he lets out a low groan at the feeling, and you nudge your thighs against his, wanting him to hurry up and fuck you

raising an eyebrow at you, Bi Han leans forward and takes out your gag, and immediately you call him an asshole

he retorts, saying that you didn’t seem to have the same attitude when he was making you cum on his fingers earlier

you frown at him, trying to keep your face still even as he slaps your pussy with his cock, letting the head bump against the clit

it sends little shocks of pleasure running through your body, but the only giveaway is how your hips slightly twitch at the feeling

he doesn’t do anything for a moment, just sliding his cock between your folds and getting himself nice and wet for you, and then he hikes your legs up into his large hands

staring straight at you, he tells you to beg, beg for his cock like the desperate whore he knows you are, and you open your mouth in indignation and glare at him

and then you spit an insult out at him, telling him he’s some pompous stupid asshole whose too cocky for no reason, a terrible grandmaster, a horrible lay

if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it and just looks at you with a bored expression until you’re out of breath and panting

his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, going deep enough that you know that there will be bruises tomorrow

he asks if you’re done, his voice annoyed and bordering a growl as he stares down at you

you tug at your arms, pursing your lips at the fact that they were still stuck to your bedsheets, and your thighs are held firmly in place by his hands

he grinds into you, pulling his hips back and teasing you with his cock, slightly pushing in but then pulling back out

you can’t help it as a small whimper leaves your throat, and you glare at him and tell him he isn’t playing fair

Bi Han doesn’t react, just repeats his order from before, to beg for him to fuck you, and you frown and slightly squirm to try and move your hips down onto him

he just pulls his hips backward away from you, preventing you from spearing yourself any further on his cock

the both of you are at a standstill for a moment, but you can feel your resolve breaking every time the tip pushes in just slightly and then pulls back out

it’s driving you insane, but you can see the cracks in his patience as he pushes in deeper and deeper and how he starts to let out a curt grunt every time he teases you

but of course Bi Han wouldn’t play fair because he leans down, his face so close to yours, and he hooks your legs over his shoulders

one of his hands snakes down to rub at your clit, and you want to actually kill him as he smirks at you and tells you to beg

he’s so absolutely infuriating, so irritating, and he was breaking down your resolve like he was an ocean wave and you were a crumbling sand castle

his thumb is slow and torturous, rubbing light circles into your clit but never going fast enough to make you cum, just enough to have pleasure creep in the edges of your frayed nerves

you try to buck and grind your hips into him to get him to apply more pressure, but it’s fruitless, and you’re left with no more options

closing your eyes, you murmur out a please

he tells you to do it again, to do it better, he knows you can do better

opening your eyes and glaring up at him, you bare your teeth and snarl at him, and he just looks down at you, awaiting your response

you grit your teeth and beg for him in a low and irritated voice, begging for him to fuck you on his fat cock, to make you cum until you only know his name, to fuck you until you worship him…please

Bi Han grins and with one single thrust, he pushes his cock into you and bottoms out, pelvis snug against yours

it steals your breath, and a strangled sound leaves your throat as he starts to fuck into you at a brutal pace, the sound of your wet pussy filling the air

he’s big, stretching you out to lengths you’ve never been, and he’s hitting every spot inside of you perfectly and turning your mind into mush as his thumb presses firmly into your clit

you refuse to beg anymore though and bite your lip to stifle your moans and whimpers, and you close your eyes and turn your head to the side to hide in your shoulder

Bi Han doesn’t seem to mind, simply leaning down further and making your hamstrings burn as he sucks and kisses hickeys into your neck

he nips at your sensitive skin, leaving his marks on you as his hips thrust in and out of you, and you let out a choked moan as you cream on his cock

his hips never stop, continuing their ruthless pace through your orgasm, but he lets out a low groan at the feeling of your pussy clenching and squeezing his cock

it’s the sound of your half-hidden whimpers and whines, his grunts and low moans, and the sound of his hips slapping into yours filling the room

every shock of pleasure is sharp and loud, cracking through your body as the overstimulation starts to sit in, but Bi Han doesn’t seem to care as he pants into your skin

he spares a look down and groans at the sight, and you look down as well, barely making out in the low light how every time he thrusts in, a slight bulge appears on your stomach

somehow, his pace quickens, and he growls into your ear that he’s going to cum in you, needs to cum in you and mark you all the way

you just whine in response, lips parting, and he takes the opportunity to attach his lips to yours and kiss you deeply, tongue finding its way into your mouth

your taste still lingers on his tongue, and you moan at the realization, pleasure coursing through you

he swallows the sound of your drawn-out keen as your pussy clamps down on his dick, nearly strangling it as you cum again, and he moans into your mouth as he does the same

you can feel his cum inside of you, warming you from the inside, and your thighs tremble as the both of your ride out your highs, his hips becoming sloppy and slow as he finishes

he just lays on top of you, letting his cock soften inside of you, and the both of you just lay there panting, chests heaving as you close your eyes and savor the last remnants of pleasure

and then you open your eyes and mutter for him to get off of you, and you tug at your arms, finally finding the ice fragile enough to break with your strength

he just grunts and obliges, his cock slipping out of you, and as much as you hate to admit it, you miss the feeling already

his cum seeps out of your pussy, spilling onto your clean bedsheets, and you glare at him, telling him that this was his fault

he rolls his eyes at you, saying that it was not, you were the one who had moaned his name in the first place

you retort saying that he had come over to your room first, and that you know for a fact that he lives in the opposite direction because that’s where all the higher-ups lived

he scowls at you but doesn’t say anything as he dresses in his slacks and picks up his robes from the floor

you stand up, fixing your shirt that had been pushed above your chest and you hold onto the door frame for balance on your shaky legs

he leaves, standing in the middle of the hallway and then turns back to you, and you just stand in the doorway and stare back at him

finally, he mutters out that he wants to see you again, next week, same time

you snort and say now who’s the one begging, and he rolls his eyes and starts walking away, letting you admire the way his back flexes as he walks

he’ll be back next week, you already know it

134 notes · View notes

packsvlog · 20 hours

Text

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

#❛ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐉𝐊 ⠀⠀ﾉ⠀ ♡#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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strwberri-milk · 2 days

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First Aid Isn't Cheap

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Comf || 2 167 words

Rafayel can’t see again. It’d be helpful if you could stay with him for a few nights until he gets his vision back.

Thomas’s text glows at you as you pack your bag, not bothering to check twice what you’re bringing. Thankfully this time Rafayel’s self inflicted blindness falls in line with a week long break you’ve been given at work, allowing you to devote all your time to him as you see fit.

When you arrive, you find Rafayel happily working in his studio as though there’s nothing wrong. The only way you know he can’t see is when he turns in the direction of you when you open the door, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out who it is. His eyes are unfocused, looking in your direction but not at you in that intense way that he typically does.

“Oh, you made it. Didn’t Thomas just text you? That was fast,” he says as he walks over to you, pulling you and your overnight bag into a hug.

“I was worried you’d trip and break your ankle to add on to the list of things I need to take care of you for. Knowing you you’d try to milk this to keep me here as long as possible,” you scold, still hugging him back as much as you can.

“Don’t worry – I told you already this is pretty common. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want to babysit me you really don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”

You stare at him open mouthed, glad that he can’t see the expression on your face.

You know that this happens to him a lot. You know it’s a result of him overworking himself. You know that he can take care of himself, and you know that technically speaking, he doesn’t need you to watch over him. Rafayel, for all your grievances, is actually incredibly self sustainable. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself, a certain independence about him that you don’t think you’d ever be able to get rid of.

That doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him though.

You drop your bag, Rafayel turning back to discern if he can figure out what’s happening. He can make out general forms and colours, brain connecting the two to get a general idea of what he’s looking at. He’s upset by the fact that he can’t see your face but having you near him will just have to sate him for now.

“Do you need help with that?” he asks, reaching down just to brush his fingers against your hand.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just go set up in your room. Your phone is near you right? Call me if you need anything while I put my stuff away,” you say quickly, turning out of his studio to head to his bedroom.

You’re glad that he couldn’t see you. You’re glad your voice didn’t waver. You’re glad that you can cry in peace in his bedroom because is its own building. He wouldn’t be able to hear you unless he was in there with you, arms wrapped around your waist as he tries to coax you into telling him what’s wrong. The worst part is you know it’ll work, that all your anger and anxiety towards him will dissipate the second his voice hits your ears and this is the only chance you’ll have to try and stay strong against him.

You unpack your things, opening his closet and smiling at the fact that the clothes you forgot last time are still there. They’re freshly laundered as well, hanging amongst his things as though they’ve always been there. It just makes your heart hurt even more, so distracted by your own thoughts that you don’t hear him walk into his room.

Just as you thought, he wraps his arms around your waist, chin sitting your shoulder as he nuzzles against you.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you wanna join me?” he asks, peppering your cheek in kisses.

On a normal day you’d jump at the opportunity, regardless of whether or not things are going to escalate but right now you don’t think you can manage it. You shake your head, Rafayel feeling the movement against his nose.

“Do you need me in there? If you do I will.”

Your eyes stay focused straight ahead, tidying up his surprisingly neat closet just to keep your hands focused. His brow furrows as he realises there’s something simmering just beneath the surface, He decides not to ask right now, hoping you’d talk to him once you’re ready.

“If I do, I’ll call for you. Promise.”

You nod and he reluctantly lets you go, a little distracted by the way you felt as he showers. He tries to figure out what could have happened – you didn’t say that there was anything strange happening at work and the last time the two of you were together you were perfectly fine. All he knows is that he thinks you need him right now, wanting to get out of the water for once to come back to your side.

Shortly after Rafayel heads into the washroom you hear the doorbell ring. You make your way over to his studio entrance, watching a delivery person drop off a giant bundle of food before driving off. You wait for them to leave before grabbing whatever it is he seems to have ordered for dinner, bringing it back to the bedroom to unpack.

You smile at the selection of food once you recognise the logo. It’s all your favourites. Of course, he was going to be sweet enough to order things you want to eat, even if he couldn’t read the menu on his phone. He hates talking to people on a good day but you know in order to get this spread he had to call the restaurant himself to place the order, probably doing it all for you. Maybe he knows you’re upset and he’s trying to butter you up and, just like every other time, you know you’re falling for it.

“Foods here?” he asks, sniffing a little as he comes beside you. You set everything up on a desk in his room, pulling a seat over and guiding him to sit down.

“I made you a plate of your favourites,” you say in response, handing him some cutlery as you take his hand to show him where everything is. He pouts a little, looking at you as he puts his free hand on yours.

“Feed me? I can’t see. I need you to pity me a little,” he teases, making you roll your eyes.

“Fine. Here.”

You bring a spoon to his mouth, gently guiding him to make sure he actually does manage to eat. You resist the urge to tease him, taking a bite yourself once he’s got his in his mouth.

“I’ve been staying up for a while to work on my next series,” he starts in way of an explanation.

“I’ve just been so excited to finish it that I haven’t really been sleeping or eating. It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been this motivated to work on something. Did you see some of them when you came in? How did you think they looked?” he asks excitedly, clearly anticipating your answer.

You think back to what you do remember, trying to see if you can conjure up anything before shaking your head in defeat.

“I didn’t notice them. I was more focused on you.”

Rafayel smirks, bringing your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles.

“You’re quite the flatterer. Stuck in a room of beautiful art and all you can look at is the artist slaving away.”

“Course I am. You overworked yourself again.”

A sprinkle of frustration sinks into your words, Rafayel catching the tone but not wanting to push his luck by playing it off. His grip tightens on your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it.

“I’m fine. The doctor said that it looked better this time than other times. That’s a good thing.”

You don’t feel as reassured by his words as he wanted you to.

Night falls around the two of you, Rafayel’s arms around your shoulders keeping you securely against his chest. You can’t really fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts as you trace aimless shapes on the blanket. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, steady in his slumber.

Without warning, you feel tears staring to slide down your cheeks. You bring a hand up to wipe at your tears, muffling the sobs that come unprovoked. Here in silence being held by the man who means more than life to you you can’t help but cry for him. At him.

You wish he took better care of himself. You wish he paid more attention to his body. You wish that he didn’t do things that made you worry and worry, stomach tying itself in knots as your brain continuously goes to the worst-case scenario. He really could hurt himself like this but his flippant attitude towards himself just makes it worse. It’s probably going to be impossible for you to convince him to take better care of himself, an absolute slave to his own whims.

Rafayel wakes up shortly thereafter, you unaware until he somehow manages to turn you to face him. He shushes you gently, hands reaching to brush away the tears on your face. He didn’t need to see you to know you having long memorised each and every part of your body. You want to push him away, yell some sense into him but you know that it’s not really his fault.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just…Rafayel…you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Last time this happened you said maybe it’d stick. Then today you said the doctor said that your eyes are better this time than other times but why does there need to be other times?”

“You’re worried about me,” Rafayel exhales.

“Yes!” you say a little louder than intended, sniffling as you try not to cry as much.

“I worry about you. And before, I just had to worry about smaller things. Then, I find out you love using rare and almost dangerous materials but thankfully, you can fight and thankfully, you have other ways to source your pigments. I can protect you from those things. I can fight too. But when you do things like this to yourself I can’t do anything about it. How – how can I help you if you won’t even help yourself?” you babble, hands knotting in his shirt as you cry.

“I just want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to worry about you going blind forever. I wouldn’t love you any less, I promise, but I don’t want you to lose something so important to you.

“You always talk about the world so vividly. How things smell, how they look, how it feels against your skin. I want you to be able to tell me about how you experience the world unabashedly. I want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to keep getting texts about how you’re feeling lightheaded from fasting for three days unintentionally or your doctor asking me to pick you up because you’ve strained another muscle from painting in the same position for hours on end.”

He listens attentively as you cry to him, brushing back your bangs and cupping your face in his hands. He nods empathetically, softly agreeing with you whenever you need a break before continuing to rant at him.

“I’m sorry my love,” he says, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not used to having someone worry about me this much. I’ve been by myself for so long. You understand, don’t you?” he asks, thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“I forget sometimes that I have someone who cares about me. That if I’m hurt, you’re hurt. I forget that as much as I love you, you love me just as much because I don’t feel worthy of your affections.”

“You are,” you say stubbornly, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you so much. That’s why I worry so much.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll get better for you.”

He continues to repeat his promise as many times as you need to hear it, mad at himself for upsetting you so much. You manage to exhaust yourself from crying soon enough, snoring lightly in his arms when you finally fall asleep. He buries his nose in your hair, taking in a deep breath of you as he holds you tightly.

The tension finally slips off of your shoulders as he swears that this time will be the last time. He just wants to give you everything you want, knowing that if it’d make you happy he’d do anything.

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds x reader #lads x raeder #l&ds x reader

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 day

Text

Greener Things

Din Djarin x Mandalorian Female Reader (Clan Kryze)

Content & Warnings: canon-typical swearing, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, admission of feelings, search and rescue, mando’a language, Mandalorian culture & customs, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 3k

It isn’t until the woman he loves is in danger that Din realizes he’s wanted her all along.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

Din observes the round fruit.

It does not hang from a tree or dwell within a bush. This one grows on a vine. The fuzzy stalk swirls over and around metal trellises. The fruit is a deep blue so dark it almost resembles space, but in the right light, it shines.

“It’s for fermentation.”

Your voice is soft, and yet Din cannot help but react as if you’ve commanded something of him. He promptly rises, turning in the direction of your voice. You flush with embarrassment as if you’ve walked in on him without his helmet. Arms tightening around the basket you’re holding; you bring it out in front of you like a shield.

Within the woven threads, Din glimpses the same dark fruit.

“Is it native to Mandalore?” asks Din, because questions keep him here. It gives him an excuse to stay a bit longer.

That is Din’s habit, and he is not all that interested in shaking it. The Growing Caverns are an extension of what they’re building here on Mandalore. Not only is the air breathable, but things are growing again. Din witnessed it on his second visit, when the stranded Mandalorians showed them all that they had done after the Night of a Thousand Tears.

Now, it’s a system. An effort to feed the ever-growing enclave.

You are but a small piece of that. A nurturer. Someone bringing life to the plants to sustain everyone else.

“No. It’s not native to Mandalore,” you answer, stepping closer to Din. He instinctually matches your movement. “This fruit is found on Kalevala.”

Your lips look so soft. Inviting. But it’s not like Din can kiss you. He cannot remove his helmet. Yet he can think about it. Even now, his thoughts meander outward, imagining what those lips might feel like against his lips. How they might feel against his skin.

“It likes the rolling hills and cliffs.”

“What likes the rolling hills?” asks Din absently, still focused on your lips.

“The plant,” you laugh, indicating the fruit with a nod of your head.

Din inclines his head because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He was too kriffing focused on your lips that he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying.

Your smile remains and it is such a sweet thing to Din.

He wants to capture it. Bottle it. Keep it with him always.

This whole interaction is indulgent. There is no reason for Din to be here, but he cannot seem to stay away. That first day, after Mandalore was reclaimed, Din planned on leaving with Grogu. But you appeared with that sweet smile, asking him for assistance, and Din answered without a second thought.

Now, he’s here, remaining on Mandalore, making excuses every day just to come see you.

Din glances around the large cavern. There are raised boxes with all sorts of plants growing from them. Others dangle from pots hanging from the cavern’s ceiling while others are bolted into the walls. Something is always different when Din visits.

All Din knows how to do is fight. And here you are, knowing how to fight too, yet using your skills to feed your people instead. It’s vastly different from how he was raised, and what he’s come to understand.

Things are changing for him.

Din clears his throat. Every day he comes, and every day he says the same thing.

“Things look good here,” he comments.

Your smile shifts to a knowing smirk, and Din is thankful you cannot see his face behind his helmet. Even with the insulation, Din is sweating.

“They are,” you agree, shifting closer to him.

Again, Din matches your movements, the two of you nearly on top of each other. Over the last few weeks, you’ve done this more and more. Leaning in, standing close to him, giving him all your attention. However, you never touch him, but Din wishes that you did, even if it’s just a passing touch.

But whatever Din feels in his heart, you are not of his tribe. You are of Clan Kryze. You walk the Way differently from him. You do not always wear your helmet. While Din accepts that both Ways are true, your path doesn’t completely align with his.

While he enjoys your company, and adores your smile, Din cannot act. Everything he feels must be buried deep. Hidden. There are some things that cannot be even if Din wishes they were so.

You shift toward him again and sigh, bringing the basket to rest against your hip. You suddenly appear tired, and Din hates that.

“Why do you come here every day, Din?”

To see you. To see your smile. To hear your voice.

How does he begin to answer that?

What answer will be acceptable to you?

Does he tell you of how his stomach flips when you say his name, or how his heart races the moment you recognize him across the room?

“It’s peaceful,” decides Din because it’s partially true. “I like it here.”

Your smile returns but it’s not as bright as before. Are you disappointed in that answer? Maybe. Din hopes that he hasn’t brushed you aside with his response.

“Will you stay on Mandalore?” you ask, and that gives Din pause. “I heard that you might leave us soon.”

Din has not been open about leaving Mandalore and returning to Nevarro. It’s possible that Bo-Katan might have said something in passing.

It’s best to be honest.

“I’ve thought about it,” he replies slowly.

You nod, your smile fading a bit. “I’d miss your daily visits if you left.”

Kriffing hell, Din isn’t strong enough to resist. The truth comes rolling out of him automatically. It’s a tug. A sharp pull. A snapping of string that cannot be undone.

“I would miss them too.”

It’s the right answer, and saying so soothes something within him. That sweet smile of yours returns, and Din has to dig down into every fiber of his control not to reach out and touch you.

Din clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “Let me help with that.” He nods toward the basket of fruit, arms extended.

You give it to him without resistance, and Din takes pride that he can at least do this one thing for you. Stepping to the side, Din allows you to lead the way, the two of you exiting the cavern to head toward the Great Forge. The passage is tight, made of solid rock, and as it spits the two of you out onto solid ground, you pause to glance back at Din.

Your gaze lingers on him and Din isn’t sure what it is he sees there.

But it is momentary. Fleeting.

You give him your back, continuing on, and Din strides up beside you effortlessly. Amongst the towering forges, Din glimpses the Armorer. She stares back, arms at her sides, observing. Din inclines his head in her direction and she repeats the gesture.

At the communal kitchens, Din drops the basket full of fruit off as you speak to another member of Clan Kryze.

It’s funny, this feeling, how Din could see a place for himself here. He has always been alone even with his covert. On Mandalore, with you, there is a sense of belonging, like he is supposed to dwell amongst Sundari’s broken halls.

“Thank you for your help.”

Din could melt into your voice. Let it swallow him up. Consume him.

“I’m always at your service,” he replies, turning in your direction.

You’re right there. So close. One touch can’t hurt. Just a small one.

Din’s fingers flex and then curl in before relaxing. He makes the first move, the backs of his fingers gently brushing against your bare ones. Your eyes widen, and for a moment, Din believes he’s ruined it all.

But as he starts to pull away, your index finger hooks around his, locking the two of you together. And you do not drop your hand.

Din stares into your face, and it is all that he needs. He is lost in your eyes, and your smile. How can he return to Nevarro?

Someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump back from each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Din,” you say quickly. “Thank you.”

Din backs away, departing with an inability to form words and a tightness in his chest he doesn’t entirely understand.

There’s a clamor near the Great Forge. A crowd.

Din navigates it, emerging from between two Mandalorians to the edge of the throng. Bo-Katan stands at the top of the stairs. To Bo-Katan’s left is the Armorer, and to her right are Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. There are several more Mandalorians that linger on the stairs. All of them are talking amongst each other.

One of the Mandalorians on the stairs speaks up, his voice projecting clearly over the crowd. His armor is the blue of Clan Kryze. “We need to send a party.”

A significant portion of the crowd vocalizes their approval. Din remains silent.

“We should,” agrees Bo-Katan. “But without knowing where they are, we’d be going in blind.”

“I agree with Rax,” says Axe. “Just volunteers. We all understand the risks.”

Several Mandalorians in the crowd step forward and voice their willingness to volunteer. Whatever Din has stepped in to, it’s not good. Glancing down the line, Din spies Paz Vizsla. He and Din have always been at odds, but Din needs answers. Melting back into the crowd, Din shuffles toward Vizsla. Din appears next to him, and the big guy gives Din a passing glance.

“What happened?” asks Din in a low voice.

“A creature from the Mines crawled out of its hole,” answers Paz.

“Attacked miners?”

Since retaking Mandalore, the Mines have been a priority. Groups go down to clear out all sorts of nasty things while other groups descend to fix pipes and passageways. Sometimes unrefined beskar ore is found. Sometimes they find armor absent its owner.

“No,” replies Paz. “Growers. Thing crawled straight up and burst through the rock.”

Din’s throat drops into his stomach.

“Casualties?”

“Two,” says Paz. “The rest were taken or injured.”

A twisted wrench within Din’s gut sends a wave of nausea through him. He wavers slightly on his feet before reality comes crashing back. Din swallows down the trepidation and terror, turning everything in him into steel.

“Who?”

Paz rattles off the names, and Din nearly sighs with relief. You are not dead, and you’re not amongst the injured. But you’re gone. Taken. And that simply won’t do.

Axe Woves raises his voice above the crowd again. “Who will volunteer?”

There is no forethought. No pause. Din steps forward silently.

If anyone will bring you back, it will be him.

Din silently slides into a crevasse, dropping down onto solid rock. Other Mandalorians move in the dark, their headlamps off as they creep closer toward their target. They too are silent, and though Din cannot see them, he feels them. They are everywhere, surrounding the beast in a circular maneuver.

The Mines are endless. Full of dangers.

This creature is but one.

Din uses his helmet’s internal display to see the world around him and pick up on heat signatures. The creature is large, easily taller than three grown men stacked on top of each other, and its fur appears coarse. While it has two legs, Din notices three sets of arms.

In the creature’s rage and confusion, it likely lashed out at whatever it could. It has the mental clarity to seize without injury, but the why is uncertain. And yet the why doesn’t matter to Din. What matters is that you’re alive.

You are alive.

Din has already found you. He just can’t approach yet.

It’s too dangerous.

When you work in the Growing Caverns, you don’t always wear all of your armor. There isn’t any point to it. It only impedes your efforts. Which is likely why you couldn’t entirely fight back.

Din will make sure you never remove your armor again. He’ll lecture you about it until you hate him for it. As long as you’re safe, that is all that matters.

The crevasse deposits Din into the den of the beast. It shifts, and Din freezes. You are right there, tucked against it. But you are not alone. There is another grower with you. The two of you have your arms wrapped around each other.

There are others, but their heat signatures no longer register on Din’s display. They are gone.

In that same display, Bo-Katan’s crouched body comes into view. She moves silently across the rock, Koska Reeves at her back. They approach you and the other grower, and with subtle movements, manage to shift the beast’s arm away from your confined bodies.

Din sidesteps, following suit until he’s right up on you. His hand is on your waist. At your back. You stiffen, and then melt, fingers digging into his flightsuit between the beskar. You do not speak. You say nothing. You only cling to him, and Din ushers you away as Axe Woves escorts the other out of the den.

Everyone backs up. Begins to retreat.

The moment Din enters the crevasse again, he moves swiftly. What Din would like to do is pick you up in his arms and carry you out. Yet it might cause too much noise or could slow him down. You’re not limping. You don’t appear injured.

From behind him comes a rumble. A shake that makes the rock around him shiver.

Din does not pause.

There’s a roar, and then a deafening boom.

The chargers have gone off.

Din tucks you against him as the crevasse widens. He bends forward to dip his arm under your thighs, and then he’s lifting. Running. Your arms go around his neck and you press your face against his chest.

Another round of chargers goes off but it is a distant thing.

There is no roar. No bellow of anger.

Din does not turn around to see if any other Mandalorians move with him. He is determined to return you home.

The twisting, tight rock widens again, and Din steps out into a cavern with a low ceiling. Din sighs with relief as several Mandalorians approach him, concern clear on their faces. Din eases you back to your feet, and though you wobble briefly, you remain upright.

You turn toward him, lips parted as if you want to say something to him. But whatever you wish to say is not to be. You are whisked away, and Din can only watch.

There is little Din perceives after that. He merely exists until he’s finally allowed to see you. For him, it feels like years. In reality, it is only a day.

“You came for me,” you murmur. The adoration and affection in your eyes is piercing, spearing him through the heart.

“I wouldn’t leave it up to anyone else,” replies Din blandly because it’s true.

You laugh, and then wince. “That’s sweet,” you say, but Din hears the doubt.

Din leans forward on the upturned bucket he sits on. Your makeshift cot is low to the ground, and Din has to look down at you in this position.

His heart hammers in his chest, the memory of hearing you’d been taken still fresh and hot.

“Your absence was a wound,” says Din. “I was hollow when I heard.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I thought you were dead.”

You fingers grip the thin blanket on your body. There is no armor. It was removed. Set aside. You’re only wearing a gauzy top and bottom. Bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“I wasn’t,” you whisper, but Din isn’t sure why you’re resisting so much.

“Do you truly believe I wouldn’t come for you?” When Din asks, he is not harsh. He is genuinely curious. There is hope laced within the question.

You shake your head. “I knew you would. It’s all I thought about in the dark.”

“And I came.”

“You did,” you agree.

Your fingers loosen from the blanket and Din allows instinct to lead him. His hand extends, slips under yours, fingers intertwining. Your eyes are watery but there are no tears. Even if there were, Din would wipe them away.

“Why?” you whisper. “Of everyone. Why me?”

Din’s breathing is shaky as he settles himself. The truth is loud. Blaring. He needs to say it, to speak it into the ether, to know if you also feel the same. At least, in some capacity. He’ll take anything you’re willing to give him.

“You are my peace.”

You give him that sweet smile again, the one he wants to bottle up and keep forever. “Not the farming?”

Din chokes back a laugh, shaking his head. Your smile is teasing now. Kriffing hell, he wants to kiss you.

“You know what I mean,” he chastises.

“I do,” you affirm, grinning.

It is just the two of you. There is quiet. Peace.

Your free hand reaches out, fingers brushing over the beskar of his chestplate. They roam upward, pausing at the Iron Heart there.

“What do you want of me, Din?”

“You,” he says automatically. “I want you.”

Your gaze lingers where your fingers touch. It flicks upward. Holds. Though Din wears a helmet, he swears you can see behind it, peering into his very soul.

“I thought you’d pass like the rains,” you murmur, the tips of your fingers pressing lightly against the beskar. “That time would show the truth.”

“And did it?”

You nod. “You stayed. You always stayed.”

“Would you like me to stay?”

Stay. Stay here next to your bed. Stay here in this room. Stay here on Mandalore.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to.”

You sigh, and it’s the sweetest sound to him. “Then stay, Din. Please.”

taglist:

@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012

@tiredmetalenthusiast @thepetitemandalorian @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @kayden666

@cherryofdeath @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu

@marispunk @ferns-fics @beebeechaos @tulipsun-flower @nomercyforthewarrior

@hantheconqueror @glassgulls @childofyuggoth

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chocostrwberry · 3 days

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i'm a bit curious, so does your chat noir view ladybug less as a friend and more as a colleague? the way you described their dynamic where he's the protector, is it solely because he feels it's his duty or is it also because he cares about his friend? love your au!

It changes as their relationship develops!!

So at first, Chat Noir definitely saw Ladybug as more of a colleague. Most of all his relationships outside of his family were business-related (thanks to his parents), so he never had any friendships with people his age. Since she was the only one who can cure akumas, he felt like he was “working” with her to complete what was expected of them, which he had done basically his whole life up until this point.

HOWEVER ☝️🤓, as he started getting to know Ladybug, he realized that she actually saw him as a person. She would notice when he’s sad, ask about his day, be concerned/worry about him, and engage in conversations and listen to him respond. She was also funny, clever, and never shut him down for his antics but followed along and they had fun together every time they had to take down akumas.

Not just a replaceable body hired to do the job, but a meaningful partner. He really felt seen with her, and then he stopped thinking of her as a co-worker and more of a friend. She was pretty much his very first real friend ever in his life. (Nino in this AU and him aren’t close, but I’ll also explain that later giggles) And he ALSO knows it’s not because of his looks, since he wears a mask, which is also a bonus.

This was around the time he started developing feelings, but was too focused in getting Marinette’s attention to realize how much he really liked Ladybug.

They do this cute pinkie-promise thing too and it’s like a promise they’ll always have each other’s backs 🥹

#thank you for the ask!! <3 #also PEEP THE SLIGHT CHANGES IN STYLE-#chat noir with his ear fluffs covering his ears was peak idk why I left that out #also changed up Marinette’s eyes because the underlining made her look blocky #chocoau lore

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fallout-lou-begas · 2 days

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I'm very fascinated by various mods for Fallout New Vegas that try to make Perception a more useful and relevant stat. I don't think that it's imbalanced necessarily: in the base game, the range for detecting NPCs on your compass is quite useful and constantly relevant. However, I disable those compass ticks because I prefer to survey my surroundings the old fashioned way with my own eyes and ears, and because I disable most ticks and waypoints and markers in general so that I'm not staring at one corner of my screen too much in-game. Still, without that, the only thing Perception really matters for is dialogue checks and perk requirements. If you're like me, and if you play like I do, then here's the mods that I use to give Perception a purpose again:

Perception in Action is a really cool and configurable mod that gives you the ability to "focus" on your surroundings at will. Based on your Perception stat, focusing like this will decrease all ambient volume and increase all actor volume so that you can hear footsteps, voice lines. It's a great feature for trying to detect nearby enemies "manually," and can also really help you avoid getting sneaked up on. The configurable bonuses really let you adjust how rewarding this feature is to a high (or useless it is to a low) Perception score, too, based on your preferences.

Spidey Sense Perception, which is the latest of several "make Perception more useful moment-to-moment" mods that I enjoy. Based on your Perception score, your character will occasionally perceive that they are in danger (that a hostile has either spotted or begun searching for them) in the form of a visual icon and sound cue. I love it because it takes the original compass-related function of Perception and makes it complement your attention to your surroundings instead of obsoleting it, since your information is imperfect and your spidey sense isn't always going to warn you of danger, only sometimes. I made a patch for it that removes the visual element and dramatically lowers the volume of the sound cue so that it's more subtle, if you're interested.

Precise V.A.T.S. primarily does two things: it requires at least a general level of accuracy while looking at an enemy before activating V.A.T.S. so that it's no longer a simple panic button, and more importantly, directly ties the range of V.A.T.S. to the player's Perception score. Such a good idea that I'm genuinely surprised that it's not a base game correlation, though this mod is very punishing if you have very low Perception.

#fallout new vegas #mods

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 day

Text

HH cast crushing on the reader 2/3

Forgot to mention in the previous post alastor will be excluded for this prompt. "But admin you write for him-" I tend to approach his writing with queer platonic ideas and while I do think this prompt can still work with that, idk how to put it into words

Characters: Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Emily, Velvette, Rosie

Notes: reader is GN, mostly focuses on canon characters, if your character isnt here check the other parts unless I dont write for them

CWs: none

LUCIFER

On one hand he wants to be with you. But on the other I feel he is still a bit hung up on Lilith. It's wouldn't be fair to you to pursue someone else when there's already someone else in his heart. He flipflops between approaching you and shutting you off. It's going to take a lot and you might have to ask him if there's something going on or if you did something wrong. He's crushed that you think you did something wrong. Baby steps with him, give him some time and the two of you could possibly make something. He finds himself sitting at his workspace making art (ducks) based off of you.

ADAM

Oh he is so open about it and it's kind of obnoxious. Well.. open isn't the right word. He's very up front with making sure you know that he thinks you're... desirable to put it lightly. But to actually be soft and vulnerable and say he wants to be with you for more than just wanting to bang you? It's going to be like pulling teeth to get an actual confession from him. He teases you a lot more, and makes comments about you and he leans into it if you're receptive. Just know that if you catch feelings first and he notices, he's going to hold it over your head and use it as ammo.

LUTE

Similar to Vaggie in the previous part, she's going to get... closed off. Unlike Vaggie, she's going to totally close herself off from you and try to bury herself deeper into her heavenly duties. She's hardwired and trained to devote herself to Heaven and she believes she doesn't have time for you. She almost feels like it's a betrayal to have these feelings in the first place. She won't confess, at least not out of looking for a relationship. I can see her doing it as a way to release her feelings in hopes that saying it out loud will somehow get rid of them. It's a little sad when you sit and think about it, but I do think with enough time and patience you two might be able to build something.

EMILY

Very giddy and very quick to telling you how she feels. She takes time out of her day to check in on you, as well as giving you something she knows you like or something that reminded her of you. Noticeably happier around you and perks up at the mere mention of your name. She always has time for you, she makes room in her schedule for you. She's a lot like Charlie in regard to her being a bit overbearing and clingy, but she really does mean well with her intentions! Just let her know if she needs to scale it back!

VELVETTE

I can totally see Velvette being the type to hide her feelings and translate to something else. Bonus points if you're a rival of hers in the industry, all the more reason for her to try to twist her feelings. I guess in a way you can call her a tsundere. Even through the meaner things she says, there are some teasing words slipped in here and there in your interactions that admittedly leave you feeling a little conflicted and confused. If you shut it down and be firm you miiiight get her to cut the act, but it is not a guarantee because she's grown to like the game.

ROSIE

She doesn't throw herself at your feet, she has some dignity. She is polite and kind towards you, though... but just because you've got her attention doesn't mean she's going to date you just yet. Think of it as her giving you a chance to show yourself off to her. She sometimes does small favors for you in town, even giving you some special privileges thanks to her status as an overlord. Waits for you to confess, if you're showing your signals as well. There will be subtle hints, though, even if she's not outright flirting with you... most of the time... she can't resist sometimes, even with the above stated. Really it just depends on the circumstance and how you are as a person.

#hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #lute x reader #emily x reader #hazbin emily x reader #velvette x reader #rosie x reader #hazbin rosie x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

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pumpedsheep8015 · 1 day

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I swear I saw somewhere on here someone talking about how much hermitcraft has grown and changed and the growth of Mumbo and the before/after of grian joining the server but I can't find it so I'll do it for myself.

Basically during the before Grian hermitcraft (keep in mind I only started watching in s7 because YouTube recommended the last episode of Grian's season 6 so this may be wrong) but during this time (s5 and before) hermitcraft was moreso a server full of different people doing their own thing away from everyone else and only a few collabs and server wide events were more rare. The hermits felt more like coworkers than friends.

After Grian joined hermitcraft started to change, more server wide events, the hermits start hanging out with eachother more, someone is always in the background of another's video. Part of this is also the change in style, Hermitcraft was trying something different with how they divided up the map and were making eachother live closer during s6. If you watch evo from grian's perspective you can see how he's very isolatey, same with Mumbo before grian joined hermitcraft.

Mumbo is my best example for this change. Before Grian joined Mumbo was more isolated and focused on doing things alone mainly (from what I know) and stayed more in his base. After Grian joined Mumbo very slowly started getting more out there in terms of how he interacted with the others. During s6 he mainly interacted with Grian and later in the season Iskall, barely coming around more for the war. During s7 he stays around Grian and Iskall, not really coming towards the whole server until Mumbo for Mayor. During s8 he has all of Boatem and interacts with Scar and Grian and Gem (a little bit) and he's a bit more out there. I won't count s9 since he was barely in it. But during the life series he definitely picked bigger groups than he's normally shown in. And now in s10 we have him talking a lot with Iskall and occasionally Ren and actually getting into the whole server wide events stuff.

Of course this could be attributed to any hermit but Mumbo's is the most obvious (as far as I'm aware) because he was more isolatey than most hermits even before Grian came around.

#long post #grian #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo

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yuri-is-online · 3 days

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OOOOOO REQUEST ARE OPEN(ish)??!?!?!??!!??!?!?!??!!!!

Is it just for the mafia AU or are they open in general? Does your no nsfw rule still apply? Does Azul still dress like my local neighborhood pimp or his he just. Business man? I know he keeps the cane which is very lavender pimp of him but still-

So the no nsfw rule no longer applies, the requests are open(ish) because people keep sending me things about yutu and i am bad at saying no ;-; I'm planning on leaving things this way until sometime next week as starting on the 16th I will be on a defacto haitus once classes start. I still intend to write but I'll be very very busy, so I would like to just focus on what I find interesting, which will likely be longfics as I find writing them to be soothing.

Azul has a lot more variety in his fashion in the Mafia AU. He's very focused on the optics of how he looks so he spends a lot of time picking out what he wears depending on what he's going to do. He saves the pimp fits for when he's touring his businesses and meeting with clients in need of his... services. When he's appearing in public as a "normal" member of the community he dresses more like a typical businessman. An extremely stylish businessman with expensive tastes and a fondness for oceanic accents, but a businessman nonetheless. The cane was a gift from his step-father once his career really started taking off, and he likes the air of authority it adds to him when he's in business meetings. It also helps him keep up an illusion of physical frailty, Azul is strong enough to crack someone's skull open with that cane but you would never guess that from the way he acts, and if the cane isn't enough he always has a gun tucked somewhere into his suit, even when he's visiting Yuu.

Speaking of that, while Azul typically leaves the information gathering to Jade and his handpicked crew, he does have a few aliases he uses to go places he wouldn't be able to otherwise. Sometimes it's his employees so he can see what their jobs are like for himself and think up ways to make them better, but most of the time it's so he can do normal things without attracting attention. Mundane things like play chess in the park, shop for groceries when he's in the mood to cook for himself, go to a record store he likes that's in Leona's part of town and wouldn't want to serve him otherwise....

And maybe spy on the person who scammed him out of a lucrative piece of real estate and fall a little bit in love with the simplicity of their life. Among other things.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #mafia ayuu

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angstywaifu · 2 days

Text

Love Doesn't Suit You - Brennan Sorrengail

Just a little idea that came into my head the other day, and just had to get written down for you all. That and I missed writing for this man. If any one has any Brennan ideas please send them my way. Pre Fourth Wing and Iron Flame (no spoilers), mentions of blood/violence, maybe bring tissues...... Requests Open.

Masterlist

Never in his life had Brennan thought he’d be in this situation. Especially not with you. But here he was, stuck in this situationship with his childhood friend. Too scared to man up and tell you how he really felt. In stead you slept together, kissed and flirted. But the second it came to a label on it, you bailed. Every single time he had to watch you enjoy the company of another person. Gods, he did it too sometimes. But none of them were you.

”You’re going to get caught one day if you keep this up.”

I jump back, hand clutching my chest as Brennan steps out of the shadows. The moonlight reflecting off his reddish brown hair. He knew I liked to do these late night flights. Knew I used them to clear my head of whatever chaos was going on in it at the time.

”Only if I do something stupid.” I reply before walking past him.

I hear him sigh behind me before walking after me. “Well considering some of your choices you make, it might not be long.”

”What’s that suppose to mean?” I ask as I turn on the steps to look up at him.

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same argument we had every few weeks or months depending how it was going. Brennan wanted more but…. I couldn’t. The thought of being with someone more than just a casual thing terrified me.

”You’re in a situatioship with what, two or three people now?” He says without even looking at me. “What happens when one of them meets and figures it out? Or you get bored and come back to me?” His voice laced with anger.

”I was pretty open about it not being exclusive. I’ve always made it clear with you and them I wanted nothing more than sex.” I say through gritted teeth before turning my back to him and walking back down the stairs.

Brennan’s footsteps are quick to follow me, and I can tell by the sound he’s angry. I’ve hit a nerve. Good. It’s better that he hates me. I’ll only break his heart if I haven’t already.

”You and I know very well that they’ve fallen in love with you. Don’t act all innocent with me.” He tells me as he practically breathes down my neck.

I turn and push Brennan back, causing him to stumble into the step behind him.

”You mean falling in love like you did?” I snap, watching as he winces at my words. “I’ve always made it clear I wanted nothing more than something casual. Love doesn’t go well with our line of work. You know that.”

Brennan just shakes his head, scoffing at the comment. “Love just doesn’t go well with you.” He mutters quietly before pushing past me and walking away. “Maybe I was stupid for even thinking you would ever commit to something.”

I barely catch the last part. Knowing he didn’t intend for me to hear it. But I do. I stand frozen to the spot as Brennan’s footsteps disappear. His words echoing in my head. My heart feeling like it was just ripped to shreds and thrown on the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears start to roll down my face. If only he knew. If only he knew how much I actually cared. How much I wanted to put a label on us. But I can’t. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind before slowly following Brennan down the rest of the stairs to the quadrant to try and get some sleep before tomorrow.

I’ve fucked up. My mind not focused on the my challenge. My mind still focused on what happened last night. Brennan’s words still echoing in my head from the night before. And because of that I hadn’t been fully focused. And now I would pay for it.

I can feel the blood dripping from the wound as my challenger pulls their knife out of my stomach. My hands rushing to apply pressure to the wound. Blood instantly seeping through my fingers as I drop to my hands and knees in the pool of blood forming on the floor. This is it. This is how I die. Black dots start to fill my vision as I feel myself slipping away. Over the ringing in my ears I hear someone calling, no screaming my name. Their voice is pained, as if they’re losing someone they love.

I cough, blood splattering the ground beneath me. Shit.

The last thing I see before I black out is a familiar pair of amber eyes looking at me in panic as they scream my name, trying to apply pressure to the wound as they pull me into their arms.

#fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #brennan sorregail #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan sorrengail imagine #brennan sorrengail

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strawberry-daiquiris · 21 hours

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💙 drunken kiss / tipsy -- i know you said you'd never write it ... but lestappen in your girl!lando verse

oh anon, honestly... you don't know the power you've wielded here because i truly did believe i'd not write it, but when i saw this prompt and i had a nice short way of doing it... i had to!!! please enjoy, i will always be nervous about my max and charles voices lmao.

_____________________

“Charlie! Charlie! We’re leaving.”

Charles barely hears George over the music, dancing with her eyes closed, packed in by hundreds of other beautiful people in short dresses and open shirts. She can still feel the tears drying on her cheeks, the snot in her nostrils from crying about him.

“Are you coming with us, or not?”

She opens her eyes, blinking the flashing colours out of the way before she focuses on George. Her hair is in loose waves around her neck, sticking to her skin from the sweat. Alex is right behind her, a possessive hand on George’s waist, fingers curled into the silk of her dress. It’s daring, almost, for them, and Charles doesn’t want to be involved with whatever game they’re playing.

“It’s fine, you go, you go.” Charles cranes her neck, searching for someone she knows, enough of a connection to the dark room that George will abandon the pretence that she wants Charles to come with them, and not to ditch her so she can go and do whatever it is that lesbians do. Charlie thinks there’s nipple sucking involved, and maybe dildos. The closest she’s ever got to it was kissing Lando in a game of truth and dare, but she thinks they’re not supposed to talk about that anymore. “Pierre is here, and Max. I will be fine.”

Carlos is still here too, somewhere, but she doesn’t mention that, or George will never leave. Charles turns her head to the sky, swaying to the music, ignoring both the creeping fear she doesn’t look sexy, and George’s worried glances as Alex steers her towards the door.

An hour could’ve passed, or two minutes, when she feels a tap on her shoulder.

“For you,” Max’s smile is wide, reaching both corners of his face, like he’s so happy his jaw is unhinging. He didn’t even win the Championship today, nothing squared off except Checo’s P2. Charles wishes… but then, it hasn’t been the year for dreaming, for her. “Champagne. Christian, of course, bought the bottle.”

Charles snorts, taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid the bubbles from sparkling in her nose.

“Mate, I should not be drinking this. Fred would be so…”

Fred wouldn’t care, Charles remembers. He’d probably take the bottle for himself, sit in a corner and laugh at his good luck. She keeps forgetting, since Mattia left, that she doesn’t need to be fearful of getting too close to the drivers from the other teams. Doesn’t need to hang her existence off Carlos and Maranello and being the sweet, innocent Madonna they imagine on her knees.

“You gave a good fight, today,” Max yells, and Charles can feel his spit on her cheek, letting her mouth drop open so it falls on her tongue. Sometimes, she wants Max more than she knows what to do with, and she’s heard things. That Kelly and him are sleeping in separate bedrooms, that she’s not in Vegas because they’re waiting until the end of the season to call it off. “When you went into the chicane? Ha, I was thinking maybe the deg would…”

Max makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, one of the classics. Charlie knows exactly what he’s getting at, the exact millimetres needed to take one of the corners and not lose pace. The guy he nearly hits in the face? Not so much. She reaches a hand out, stops him from taking out half the drinks on the dance floor.

“Can we go somewhere?” Charles shouts, and suddenly she can’t think of anything she wants to do less than dance, in a tight dress, surrounded by guys who think she’s only a 7 because she’s got natural breasts and doesn’t really know how you contour your face. “I don’t care where.”

Max takes a full bottle from the table on their way to the door, and Charlie keeps her head down when they pass a group of Ferrari mechanics by the bar. Pierre spots them, narrowing his eyes, and Charles flips him off, then nods. She knows what she’s doing.

“You cannot just get married here, of course,” Max tells her as they walk down past one of the chapels, way off the strip by now, swigging from the bottle of champagne. It’s cold, too cold for her dress, and Max’s AlphaTauri jacket is big on her shoulders, smells like him and his cologne. “You have to apply for the licence, yes? And they won’t let you do it when you’ve had drinks…”

He holds up the bottle, sloshing some onto his shirt. Max’s hair is a mess, and Charles leans a hand out to flatten it, automatically. She can’t remember the last time they were somewhere together, drunk. Monaco, maybe. New Year’s. Kelly had been there, and Charles’ boyfriend at the time. She can remember watching them kiss at midnight, soft and sincere, whilst Laurent pawed at her arse and ground his crotch against hers.

She broke up with him the next week.

It had just run its course.

“So we cannot tonight then?” Charlie purrs, and she knows it’s a bit unfair, but she’s wanted someone to flirt with all night, ever since Carlos told her he was bringing her, some model, his new girlfriend. “That is a shame, Max.”

“Ah, the press would love it.”

“Mmm,” Charles takes the bottle from him, and threads her other hand with his, swinging it between them and making him twirl her under the neon flashing lights of the chapel. “Mrs Charlie Verstappen.”

Max frowns, dragging her to a halt, and they’re very close. Above them, Cupid swings with a creak.

“You would keep your own name,” Max says seriously, and when he swallows around the lump in his throat, Charles can see it. And she knows then, that he’s thought about it, about destiny and soul mates and all the foolish things she starts to believe when she looks at their birth charts and the twin signs in their lives. La predestinata. “Of course.”

“Of course.” Charles nods, exaggerated and slow, and when she stops, she leaves her face tilted skywards. If he doesn’t take the hint now, Charles thinks, then he never will.

Max takes the bottle from her hands before he does anything, placing it carefully at their feet, and when he wraps his arms around her to a chorus of honks from a passing limo, Charles knows.

This time, it’s going to be different.

#oh the parallels!!!!#honking cars dubious fidelity getting too close in clubs #no wonder everyone was gossiping in abu dhabi!!!!#precious charlie and the weight of ferrari oof #girl!charles #lestappen #girls just wanna f1 #my fic #fic ask meme

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sillybruja · 2 days

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What are you thoughts on mercury in the 12th house synastry?

I actually just did a post sort of touching base on my thoughts but let me further explain :) I have had this synastry aspect with 2 very close, long-term friends in my life. We are no longer in contact, but I can say these relationships profoundly affected me. That's the thing about 12th house synastry in general -- you will feel the weight of the connection, and the other person's' energy despite not speaking. But more on mercury in the 12H. The BIGGEST issue the two of you will face with this aspect is of course, communication & communication of feelings more specifically. Using my own example -- I was the planet person, trying to "figure out" what the house person was thinking always because they never expressed themselves or how they felt about me. As the planet person, I feel I was more on the receiving end when it comes to confusion. That happens a lot with this placement -- mercury focuses a lot of energy on the mental aspect to things so in this synastry one (or both) of you could truly feel a little mind f*cked about what the other person feels for you. Mercury is of course about exchanging info, communication, etc.. so, with this synastry, you will find two people who love talking to each other. They talk about anything and everything, and things they will not talk about with other people. With one friend, we did sort of develop a trauma bond, but she was the only person I confided in with my deepest secrets. I also see this manifesting as always having an interest in talking about spiritual things and the paranormal. You two could ask a lot of "what if?" questions, or proudly wear tinfoil hats discussing conspiracy theories. You two could enjoy the uncomfortable, the grotesque, the unspoken about, the taboo etc., together and feel completely natural. I've also noticed that this is the type of placement that makes a person sorta sacrificial. Remember I mentioned there's a lot of talking and communicating etc.,? Well, this placement can also make a person self-sacrificing in terms of having an expectation to hold an endless amount of emotional space for the other person, but seldom getting that energy in return. There is no equal give and take when it comes to emotional availability and it can feel taxing. Lastly, I have also noticed this placement can have issues with consistency. While communication can be fast, I have noticed people can also suddenly stop talking randomly and for random periods of time for no reason. This gives ghost energy, or like those relationships you have with people who mean a lot to you but you do not talk to everyday. When you do eventually talk it feels like no time at all. Most of the time this energy works for this pair because they do tend to retreat from the world, but when they connect they find those intense feelings and curiosity about each other has not faded.

#ery's astro posts #ery's synastry observations #12H #12H synastry #12H mercury #12 mercury synastry #romantic synastry #synastry notes #friend synastry #astro notes #astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro observations #astrology posts #astrology tumblr

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johnnys-breastmilk · 2 days

Text

sleepily writing this because i can’t sleep. 18+

Imagine that you’re dating plus sized!Mike Schmidt. It’s another early morning that has suffered the effects of your late night. Mike is hastily getting ready for work, drawing your attention to him from the sound of his socked feet shuffling against the carpet. You can see him through the sheets thinly veiled over your head. Airy and breathable, but all you can smell is him.

He’s uttering something you can’t quite hear, but he stops when he sees a mess of your hair surface from the sea of sheets. He catches it in the mirror, and you look at the mirror and then him. He’s struggling to get his work uniform on—nothing new with how much you’ve been treating him to the junkiest of foods. The buttons seem to barely stretch over his middle, his dark trousers can barely be buttoned.

Mike remembers his urgency and focuses back on his reflection, sucking in as much of his gut as possible to get the waist of his jeans to meet. It’s more teasing to do it in front of the mirror because he has to see himself fail from different angles. There’s no wishful thinking that it might just be perspective making the gap between the button and the hole it’s supposed to go into any bigger. You love watching the polarity grow when he sighs and gives up, letting it spill out.

“I can’t believe this.” He groans. Scratching at the scruff on his face, he realizes he should’ve shaved that. It was a bit uneven because you weren’t there to do it for him.

You rise out of bed, overturning the comforter like the defeated flaps of his jeans. A pair of Hanes with holes in them cover the distance like water under a drawbridge that won’t drop. You near him, the sight of you in his large t-shirt is enough to make him forget all about work. “Stay home with me,” you whine, “can’t risk you losing yourself while you’re there.”

Mike would just come home stressed and perturbed, eat whatever comfort food you made him, and then the cycle would repeat. It wasn’t good for his self esteem, but you could always cheer him up. Your hand slid over his round gut, slightly lifting the pudge spilling over his underwear to tease him. “The good thing about not being able to get this on is that it’s so much easier to take off…”

In just a few eager steps, he was turned back on to the bed by your doing. His body gloriously spread out as he undid the buttons of his shirt that could be done. His belly still remained the highest raised thing compared to his growing tent. You pulled down the fabric covering him down there and started making everything work. Lips, wetness, warm skin. Mike should stay home more often…

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xenteaart · 4 hours

Text

contemplating mediocrity

pairing: idol!chan x reader (gn but written with f!reader in mind) word count: 0,9k genre/warnings: er, hurt to comfort, use of "baby", self-doubt, honestly not much else, pretty pg-13 author's note: heavily inspired by @withleeknow 's last seungmin fic, i couldn't handle the angst and needed to comfort myself fkdjfkdjfk. also it kinda made me reflect on why it hurt so bad so i guess this fic is a little support and comfort thingy for everyone who might not be feeling "enough". before reading you might wanna check out the inspo fic itself <3

“baby? what’s wrong?”

ah, he’s always too quick to notice.

you take your eyes off the laptop and put a video of 3racha’s festival performance on pause.

“nothing. you guys did a wonderful job, truly. ’m just… contemplating my mediocrity.”

“what?” he’s more just taken aback than anything else but you read it as irritation.

it’s one of those days when everything feels extra sensitive, even the things you can deal with well on a regular day.

“what? chris, baby, i’m not being self-deprecating, it’s just a fact. i truly could not be more proud of you, but sometimes i just can’t shake off the feeling of not doing enough compared to you.

it warms my heart to know that you are so so loved and respected, it really does. but, i guess.. it’s a little humbling too? i haven’t achieved anything nearly as grand and i don’t have thousands of people cheering for me after i do as much as breathe. which you totally deserve, by the way, i’m not saying you don’t.”

long silence follows as chris frowns, carefully crafting his next response while you’re already starting to regret you opened your mouth at all. maybe, some things should be kept to yourself. maybe, it’s not really necessary to share every dark thought that comes to your pained mind after midnight. maybe, it’s safer for your relationship to just move those conversations to a cozy zoom meeting with your therapi—

“that’s a skewed perception of our dynamic though, baby.”

oh, shit. he has the look. you know this one too well, and it says “i’m not letting this slide and we’re talking this through”.

“how so?” you feel tired and discouraged already, mostly annoyed at yourself for making your boyfriend come up with some nonsense points to make you feel better now.

“don’t put me on a pedestal. firstly, i think you’re forgetting how many people there actually are behind what we’re doing. daily. i’m talking all the staff and production teams, makeup, hair, clothes, art direction, schedule management. everything. there is literally a whole division for us that makes us look the way we look and helps us do what we love.”

you stay quiet, blinking slowly and pursing your lips together.

“which isn’t to say we don’t work hard or that we haven’t achieved anything, but it wouldn’t have been possible without all that help.

secondly, in my daily life i’m just a guy, baby. literally just a guy who loves music. nothing fancy,” chan gives you one of those wide soft smiles, and you hear your heart break a little.

“yeah, well, not every guy who loves music has the amount of awards and recognition you do, baby.”

“okay, where is this truly going?”

there it goes.

“sometimes i worry i just can’t match it? that you’ll get bored of me because i’m not over the top extraordinary or... whatever.”

you feel stupid.

“so you think i’m with you for your so-called achievements?”

you can’t come up with a response, so he continues, gently hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. his favorite way of making you feel loved.

“i’m with you because you’re my sense of normalcy, baby. you calm my mind when it’s racing too fast. you’re my safe little harbour where i can find peace after hectic schedules and loud noises and crowds. you ease the weight i carry on my shoulders every day.”

you stay silent, focusing on the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek. the tip of his nose is touching your skin lightly.

“you love the regular channie. you kiss my puffy swollen face in the mornings, and those kisses make me wonder if i’m actually not that bad without all the makeup on after all. you laugh at my jokes and cuddle me when i get needy. you listen to my darkest nastiest thoughts and never judge me for feeling whatever it is i’m feeling.

what i’m getting at is that... i can just be me around you, you know? that’s why i’m still here. and i feel so proud to have a partner with a big warm heart and a strong mind, honored to be cared for by someone so neat and beautiful in the most mundane things.

do you really think i’d measure my love and respect for you by something like fame or... some noble achievements?”

“i don’t know,” you sound even more confused than at the beginning of this suddenly serious conversation, caught off guard by chan’s words, but mostly — his tenderness towards you. his patience and the way he's willing to spell it out for you if you're feeling too low to see the whole picture yourself.

"well, then i’m telling you. that is just not the case. you’re already everything i could ask for, baby. someone passionate, honest, reliable, loving and kind. someone who holds my hands through the hard days and makes me laugh on the good days. simple as that."

the pressure on your chest is slowly fading as chan's words finally sinking in, finding their ways into your system and rendering as the truth. the ache isn't completely gone but you know it will be in the morning, when the sunrise washes the rest of your worries away.

for now, you turn around in chris's embrace and hide your nose in the crook of his neck, simply breathing and enjoying the lingering scent of his soap. skin to skin.

#skz x reader #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan x you #skz imagines #my fic #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan stray kids #skz x you #chan x female reader #bang chan x female reader #stray kids bang chan

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